1. It’s Friday. I’m in New York. I’m sick. I’m trying to decide between two-stepping at a bar with tissues in my clutch, or staying home and watching House Hunters International.
2. Prominent black women scholars warned me to slow down and not to get sick or die from the pressures of being a successful academic. Of course, I didn’t listen. I’m ill, right before I am supposed to go on a mini-break to the Hamptons.
3. My mom asked me today how much money I think I will make. I gave her a number. “That’s not high enough for your lifestyle,” she noted, without judgment.
4. My brief flirtation with poverty needs to end. Life in NY is far from low key Western Mass. Even in the hipster spots, I catch a glimpse of women with eyelash extensions, human hair extensions, stiletto nails, pedicures, etc, etc.
…on second thought, maybe i’m good without all that extra. I saw a woman who looked just like this in Penn Station and it scared me.
5. I may be the only single woman in N.Y. not on Tinder.